


Halloween

by Shapooda



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Handcuffs, M/M, Oral Sex, Sick Character, Vampire Bites, Werecats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-17 05:24:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16510181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shapooda/pseuds/Shapooda
Summary: It's a slow, uneventful Halloween night when a thirsty, ginger vampire gets partnered with the resident werecat to go take care of a problem. Ichigo's steadfast refusal to bite people now comes back to bite him, leaving it up to Grimmjow to put him back together.





	Halloween

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Black_Storm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Storm/gifts).



 

 

 

 

The ice in Ichigo’s drink settled, a chime of glass in his palm. He swirled it, the liquid a rusty amber. Whiskey with a touch of A blood. Cold, always cold, never hot; _Hot_ with the pumping flow of arterial–

 

“What about that one?”

 

Ichigo blinked, setting his glass down with a thud. “What?”

 

Urahara canted his head towards the farthest corner of his bar. “He looks nice, why not take a bite outta _him_?”

 

“I’m not,” Ichigo hissed, slamming the glass down on the bartop. “biting anyone.”

 

“Why not? You want to,” Kisuke said.

 

“Y’know what?” Ichigo said. “That’s the last time I’m confiding in you.”

 

Kisuke leaned forward on the bar and shrugged. “People give blood all the time.”

 

“Willingly!” Ichigo hissed.

 

Kisuke rolled his eyes. “As if they would complain.”

 

“What’s the supposed to mean?”

 

Kisuke gave him a dry look, and when Ichigo started blankly back, his eyebrows danced in a suggestive wave. Ichigo wrinkled his nose and snorted. “Gross. Not that kinda vampire.”

 

The black cat lounging on the bar huffed. “Prude.’  
  
“Nudist,” Ichigo spat.   


The cat gave him an unimpressed look and flicked its tail, voice too deep for something so small. “Jealousy isn’t attractive on you, Ichigo.”

 

Ichigo spun his glass on the counter and said, “Yeah? Well the man voice isn't doing you any favors, furball.”

 

“What did I just say about jealousy,” Yoruichi said. She closed her eyes and pretended to doze, leaving Ichigo's scowl under appreciated.

 

Kisuke leaned back from the bar again and said, “I’m all about enabling bad decisions, but…”

 

“But what,” Ichigo challenged.

 

“I can’t help but notice a pattern.” He raised his hands in defense. “That’s all I’m saying.” Ichigo tightened his grip on the glass and he scowled at the rest of the patrons. He was there frequently enough that Kisuke would have to notice the spike in his cravings, his urge for something alive. He’d been caught staring at more than one person like prey, and it unsettled him enough to attempt to take the edge off.

 

Kisuke said, “It’s Halloween, aren’t your kind supposed to live a little?”

 

Ichigo looked back, brow raised, “Did you just call yourself boring?”

 

“You’re a vampire, you should be prowling the streets.” He waggled his fingers for emphasis on ‘prowling’

 

“That’s stereotyping,” Ichigo muttered. “And I’m not gonna bite _a kid_ . _Gross_.”

 

Kisuke rolled his eyes, “Kids usually have parents. Are you not into that cougar tail?”

 

Ichigo scoffed. “No.”

 

Kisuke hedged, “Maybe a manther?”

 

Ichigo wrinkled his nose. “What the fuck is that?”

 

“You know,” Kisuke said, “A cougar, but of the dangalang variety.”

 

Ichigo downed the rest of his drink and slammed it down. “Stop, _please_ , while you’re ahead.”

 

Yoruichi’s tail flicked in amusement and she said, “Your manther is here.”

 

“What?”

 

Something heavy and metal was dropped on the counter beside him. Ichigo flinched, shooting the pile of junk beside him an accusatory look.

 

“I brought you your _junk,_ you pervert.”

 

Ichigo stared at the man, startled, not having heard the other approach, which was...weird. His eyes locked on powder blue hair, then traced intense, rakish features that looked utterly incapable of a smile without violence.

 

“Ahh thank you Grimmjow-san, late as usual.”

 

“Stuff it, ain't anyone else gonna get this shit for you.”

 

The man noticed Ichigo staring, eyes like low burning pilot lights settling on him in disgust. “The fuck are you lookin’ at, strawberry?”

 

He'd seen him in passing, but only at a distance, and only enough to know he took jobs for Kisuke of the supernatural variety, and that he was an asshole.

 

Ichigo sucked in a breath to respond, and every circuit in his brain skid to a grinding halt. Petrol, acrid and strong, burning rubber, old leather, expensive plastic, the sweet, lingering scent of post combustion oil, hot metal and dry leaves, ocean mist and beneath it all, something strong and musky, a spice rolled up in tobacco leaves and set aflame.

 

He felt a sudden impulse to move, _to hunt_ , to sink his teeth into alabaster skin and taste. That wild impulse was followed up with a cold dose of realization and panic. He twisted in the stool to run, practically falling off of it. His foot caught the edge of the barstool, dragging it in a screeching line after him. _Smooth_.

 

Staggering, Ichigo hit the front door with all his weight and stumbled out into the street. Sucking in lungfuls of crisp, autumn air, his heart slowed. _What the hell?_

 

He'd found various scents alluring in the past but this was ridiculous. He’d smelled bikers before, on occasion, and it was interesting, but it hadn’t ever spiked his prey drive. He wasn’t even certain what he’d smelled was human.

 

Ichigo heard the door chime and squeak behind him, the scuff of boots far too quiet on the pavement. The man snapped, “The fuck is your problem? Allergic to cats?”

 

Ichigo frowned, backpedaling away, determined to stay upwind from his scent. Cats. “What?”

 

The breeze played with his hair, biting and cold, and the man's eyes widened a touch in realization. “You're a vampire.”

 

“Uhh.” Ichigo realized that wasn't an intelligent response, but people didn’t usually say that to his face.

 

“It ain't exactly a subtle scent, dumbass.” Grimmjow stalked over to his bike and lifted the helmet. “But your eyes ain’t exactly human.”

 

Ichigo could assume a lot from that statement, but he focused on the part relevant to him. “What's wrong with my eyes?”

 

Grimmjow straddled his bike, an older, well kept thing, and gave Ichigo another once over. “If that’s not intentional, you should get that looked at.”

 

Well, now Ichigo was worried. As far as he was aware, his eyes had never changed or looked anything other than human.

 

The door swung open and Kisuke had a cell phone pressed to his shoulder to muffle a call. “Ahhh Grimm-san wait.”

 

“What the in the fuck do you want now?” Grimmjow growled.

 

“Why are you such an asshole?” Ichigo asked.

 

“Why are you so stupid?” Grimmjow countered.

 

Kisuke sighed. “Don’t make me keep a client waiting, she’s quite hysterical.”

 

Ichigo perked up. “Client?”

 

“It’s Halloween,” Kisuke said. “All the nasties come out to play. You should take this on together.”

 

Grimmjow’s face twisted in outrage. “ _No_. No, no, and no. I work alone.”

 

“You expect me to work with this guy?” Ichigo protested.

 

Kisuke ignored them both and lifted the phone to his ear. “We accept, I can have someone there in...thirty minutes.” He carried on with a well rehearsed speech. “Stay in a well lit area and don’t go back inside. Thank you for your business.” He hung up and said, “I’ll send the address to your phone’s.” He tapped away at his phone, then shot them a look from beneath the brim of his hat. “If the client dies we don’t get paid.”

 

No one moved.

 

Kisuke raised his brows. “You’d better get going.”

 

Ichigo’s phone buzzed and he pulled it from his back pocket. His eyes widened. “You can't be serious, this is _miles_ away!”

 

“It is,” Kisuke agreed.

 

Grimmjow swore, taking out his own phone to memorize the address. “I’m going alone. I ain’t into sharing.”

 

Kisuke said, “Same pay as usual, but you only get half if you leave Kurosaki-san behind.”

 

“What?!” Grimmjow snapped. “How does that make sense?”

 

“I don’t make the rules,” Kisuke said helplessly.

 

“That’s literally a lie,” Ichigo said.

 

“I’m not losing two of my best, most arrogant employees, to stupidity,” Kisuke said.

 

Grimmjow threw the kickstand and balanced the bike, turning the engine over with a guttural purr. “I was supposed to be drinking by now.” He raised his voice, lips curled in a sneer. “Get on, Strawberry, before I make you take the bus.”

 

Replacing his phone in his pocket, Ichigo steeled himself to climb on the back of the bike. He’d never ridden a motorcycle before, but like hell was he going to give this prick the opportunity to call him a pussy.

 

Clenching his jaw, Ichigo threw his leg over the back of the bike, and then tried to figure out where to put his hands.

 

“You've never been on a bike before.” It wasn't a question, Ichigo absolutely failed at being savvy in every possible regard. “Arms around my middle.”

 

Ichigo struggled with the reality that he was about to give a stranger a bear hug. “Don't I need a helmet?”

 

“Aren't you undead?”

 

Ichigo frowned, but saw no reason to correct him. He laced his arms around his middle and held his own wrists. Chest touching Grimmjow's back with a vibrating, metal monster between his legs was...a little more than he'd bargained for. He watched Grimmjow pull on his helmet, his expression lost beneath a blacked out visor, and inhaled. His grip tightened like a vice, assaulted with every tantalizing aspect of his scent.

 

Grimmjow canted his head, and Ichigo could feel those eyes on him even if he couldn’t see them. “If you bite me, I swear to God I will dump your ass on the expressway at 100 kilometers an hour.”

 

“I don’t bite?”

 

Grimmjow scoffed like he was lying. “Yeah, whatever.”

 

Kisuke waved like he was seeing off his daughter on a date. “Have fun, Kurosaki-san!”

 

If Ichigo thought it would do any good, he would have flipped him off. When Grimmjow revved and the back tire slipped and skid in a crescent, he was glad he hadn’t. Grimmjow let off the clutch and the bike peeled off down the street, burnt rubber stinging his nose.

 

Luckily, over the roar of the wind, conversation was impossible, and the wind carried away most of Grimmjow's scent, lost in the smell of winding streets and thick mountain forest. Grimmjow's jacket concealed most of his throat, to Ichigo's dismay and joy, he couldn't decide which reaction was more urgent.

 

Grimmjow went fast, true to his word, skirting by cars so closely he felt the air pressure against his leg. Rather than consider how he might become roadkill, Ichigo ducked his face against Grimmjow's back. It felt uncomfortably like a hug, and with his crotch right up against his ass, he had a feeling both of them were dissociating the reality of how unnecessarily intimate it was.

 

The motorbike roared down a tar patched road, steep and rapidly narrowing, the trees casting a patchwork of shadows that concealed cracks and potholes. Grimmjow was forced to slow by increments, and soon they were moving at a speed Ichigo could easily outrun.

 

Now that the roar of the motor was at a low growl, Ichigo said, “We’re late.”

 

“I can keep time, _thanks_.”

 

The front tire skipped over a steep crack in the road and Ichigo face planted into Grimmjow’s back. _Closecloseclose._

 

Ichigo peeled his face off his jacket and blurted, “Y’know what, running is faster.”

 

To his shock, Grimmjow stopped the bike, propping it up with his foot. He growled, “You’re right, get off.”

 

Ichigo scrambled off the back, glad Grimmjow was preoccupied enough to miss how gracefully he almost fell on his face. Tearing off his helmet, his unwilling partner took his bike and pushed it into the bushes, concealing it as quickly as he could.

 

Grimmjow reached for his phone and Ichigo waved him off. “Don’t bother. This way.” Now that they were away from town, finding a living person wasn’t difficult, and finding something evil was a breeze.

 

Ichigo broke from the road into the woods at a jog, watching to be sure Grimmjow wasn’t left behind. He didn’t need to worry apparently. Whatever Grimmjow was, he kept pace with ease, so Ichigo picked up the pace.

 

Sliding into a run, Ichigo dodged trees, but quickly grew annoyed with how slow it was. So he coiled his muscles and jumped.

 

Slipping past reaching tree branches, he broached the treetops, crossing a hundred feet in seconds. He saw Grimmjow’s shadow below him, slipping through the trees with far more ease than he had. Practice maybe, or instinct, Ichigo wasn’t sure. The silhouette he cut among the shadows was too feral to be human.

 

Keeping up with the pace Ichigo set, Grimmjow hung back only enough to keep the vampire in sight. Darkness licked over Ichigo’s skin as he poured on the speed in physical trails, his hunger spiking in sudden need.

 

His tongue brushed the sharp tip of a canine, his guts twisting in desire of something he refused to indulge.

 

That was irritating, especially since he’d just eaten. It wasn’t enough, and it felt like no matter how much gas he put in the tank, it burned off faster every time.

 

Teeth clenched in annoyance, Ichigo kicked off another branch, twisting in the air to land in a crouch in a small clearing. Grimmjow slid to a stop just behind him, and Ichigo glanced back. Now he understood what the man was. He was covered in a thin layer of white fur, but it thickened into black on his arms, ebony black talons glinting wickedly in the moonlight. His ears were long and furred, thin tufts at the end reminding Ichigo of a wild cat he’d once seen. It was difficult to tell in the dark, but he thought his mane was the same blue as his hair, running along his spine in a furious wave.

 

Eyes flicking to the tails thrashing behind the werecat, Ichigo shared what he thought Grimmjow might already know. “Vampire.”

 

Grimmjow straightened, voice roughened with a growl. “Any survivors?”

 

Ichigo’s senses cast a wide net, but he heard no heartbeat besides Grimmjow’s and his own. “No.”

 

The darkness before him felt thick, even to vampire senses. The world was cast in shades of blue and grey, but the crumbling shrine before them seemed too dark. Patches of melting snow littered the ground, thin grass and fallen leaves poked from the surface like tiny reaching fingers.

 

The wind here was rather still, unnaturally calm, but it only took a couple of steps before Ichigo smelled it. He physically recoiled, backpedalling from the yawning dark of the shrine, but it was too late to escape the smell.

 

Grimmjow stepped up beside him and growled, “That’s a lot of blood. You still with me, leech?”

 

Ichigo’s fangs lengthened, jutting past his lower lips like fine tipped daggers. “I can’t go in there.”

 

“Fine, watch the perimeter.” Grimmjow ordered, “Don’t let him get away.”

 

If Ichigo wasn’t so preoccupied with himself, he might have argued against those orders, but they had a job to do, one where his ego could drag him down or he could step over it and carry on.

 

The werecat stalked for the shrine with no fear; Ichigo would know, he’d smell it if he was. If there was one thing his instincts caught hold of, it was fear and blood, nothing could hide it from him. Grimmjow flexed blackened claws, the tip of his tail twitching and thrashing. It might have been cute if he wasn’t already aware of how deadly a shifter could be.

 

Ichigo circled from outside, guilt fed his fury like a rabid dog. He hated being late, people were dead, and from the stale and bitter stench of death, they'd been dead before they ever had a hope of getting there.

 

His shoes snapped brittle twigs like pretzels, but the melting snowfall made the ground soft and damp, a blanket of sodden decay silencing his footsteps. He heard the soft creaks from the shrine, temperature and rain-warped wood betraying Grimmjow's movement, no matter how quiet the werecat wanted to be.

 

His senses were sharper than usual, the blood clogging his nose, urging him towards carnal instincts he would rather remain absent.

 

The clack of a small stone sliding and bouncing down weathered tiles drew Ichigo’s attention to the roof. A dark silhouette hunched on the steeple of the roof stared down at him, eyes like dying embers.

 

It _moved_ . _Fast_.

 

“Grimmjow!”

 

It was all the warning the werecat was going to get, the vampire was like liquid shadow, strengthened by fresh blood and death. It was all Ichigo could do to block, raising his arms to fend off a feral swipe for his throat. In a fierce exchange of blows, Ichigo couldn’t fully guard against his swipes, claws backed with the cutting edge of darkness.

 

Jacket torn under the continued assault, Ichigo searched for an opening, but found none. The vampire was attacking without logic or reason, defending his kill site with reckless abandon. His skin split in angry red lines, but Ichigo healed fast. The issue was the unnecessary drain on his power; he couldn’t keep it up indefinitely, not without a heavy cost.

 

The wind shifted, the scent if blood and death thick on the other vampire, draped over him as thickly as the darkness it called to it's aid.

 

Hunger clawed at Ichigo, a distraction he didn't need.

 

Catching sight of a blur of white in his peripheral, Ichigo did Grimmjow the justice of not giving away his position. The werecat's claws glowed blue, energy arcing from the tips in an extension of his attack. Blue talons of power cut into the vampires back from nape to tail bone. The vampire screeched, arching in agony.

 

That opening was his only chance. Relying on instinct, Ichigo’s body moved before his mind could catch up. His teeth sank into his throat, throttling the vampire's scream into a choked gurgle. Ichigo followed the vampire to the ground, it's claws rending his back and shoulders, rabid and desperate.

 

Blood, hot and thick on his tongue, laden with power and living energy. It filled him with desire so intense, his mind stopped. _Bloodbloodbloodblood_ ––Nothing but the coppery sweet taste of iron on his tongue.

 

\---xxx---

 

**Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez**

 

It took Grimmjow a second to realize Kurosaki wasn’t just strangling the vampire, he was feeding off him. Kurosaki looked up at him, yellow eyes blazing against black sclera, silently daring him to intervene.

 

Grimmjow took a wary step back, back hunched and claws raised in defense. The last thing he wanted was to fight against his own team. He liked a good fight, but facing a coworker that wasn't even mentally present? That was no different than putting down a rabid dog.

 

Kurosaki flattened the vampire to the dirt, catching and pinning its wrists flat against the ground. The vampire thrashed and fought with no regard given to the damage it did to its own throat. If Kurosaki noticed or cared that its claws had torn his back into ribbons, it wasn’t clear. His throat worked, swallowing mouthfuls, and with every second that passed, the vampire’s struggles lessened.

 

Grimmjow noticed a couple of things very quickly; Kurosaki was _very_ strong, it took no effort at all to pin and hold a vampire that had clearly gorged itself on fresh blood and multiple kills. The second thing he noticed was that he was damn near starved. He’d fought vampires before, he knew them inside and out, and this wasn’t the behavior of a well fed vampire. Why he would do that to himself, Grimmjow had no idea, but now he had to deal with the aftermath.

 

Any injury Kurosaki sustained healed in seconds, his tattered jacket and shirt the only evidence he'd been mauled at all. When the vampire's struggles ceased, Kurosaki immediately lost interest, his attention entirely focused on Grimmjow.

 

The vampire stood slowly, assessing, face drenched in arterial blood. It dripped from his chin in a steady patter onto decaying leaves, flashing white fangs in a slowly curling smile. Pupils dilated, Kurosaki’s irises burned like thin crescents in the dark. He smeared the blood from his mouth, which did nothing but stop the persistent drip of blood. He looked at the blood on his arm, like he was surprised to see it, then his eyes flicked back up to rest on Grimmjow’s. He slurred, “You smell…” His smile stretched a bit too wide to be sane, “gooooood.”

 

Grimmjow held his ground, not about to let Kurosaki see him as prey by backing away. “Kurosaki, you in there?”

 

His smile faltered at the name, but that wasn't enough to pull him out of it. He stepped over the dead vampire, and stalked across the distance between them with noticeably more grace. Grimmjow tensed, tendons standing out starkly on the backs of his hands as he flexed his claws.

 

Kurosaki noted he was a threat, that was clear when he hesitated just out of arm’s reach. He studied Grimmjow, then stepped over that invisible boundary with a confusing amount of confidence.

 

“Back off,” Grimmjow snarled.

 

“You’re not _scared_ ,” Kurosaki drawled.

 

“Why the fuck would I be scared of some second rate vampire?”

 

Kurosaki pretended to think, then reached for him, “Because you can’t win.”

 

Teeth bared in a snarl, Grimmjow snapped at his fingers, but Kurosaki was suddenly gone. Whirling on instinct alone, Grimmjow slashed for Kurosaki’s throat. He was there, and then he wasn’t. He was _fast_.

 

Laughter echoed from the dark, falling flat in the clearing. Grimmjow kept turning, trying to track the source of the sound. He hunched low in a crouch, head lowered to protect his throat in caution. His mane was at least enough to deter the vampire from an easy kill to the back of his neck.

 

He could pride himself on speed, but in that moment, Kurosaki was faster, and riding high on the blood of a fresh kill.

 

The vampire flashed from the dark, movement catching his attention in his peripheral. Grimmjow dodged a swipe of claws, but not quickly enough. Kurosaki’s claws cut deep, slashing from his collarbone to his waist in an agonizing stripe. His guts didn’t spill over the ground, so Grimmjow took that to be a sign his hierro could withstand a beating, even from a fresh fed vampire. That gave him some confidence.

 

Kurosaki dashed away, leaving ribbons of darkness in his wake. Ears flat in annoyance and pain, Grimmjow waited, that madness riddled cackle seemingly coming from every direction at once.

 

Instincts warning him again, Grimmjow caught Kurosaki's swipe for his face by the wrist. Kurosaki didn't let that stop him, surging forward to bite. Grimmjow threw his other arm up and shoved Kurosaki back by the shoulder. Kurosaki snapped his jaws shut just shy of Grimmjow's face, that smile spreading haphazard across his face. “Just a bite, just one.”

 

“Snap out of it, you crazy asshole!”

 

Kurosaki laughed again, leaning forward, pressuring Grimmjow enough that his arm trembled. The vampire hissed, eyes narrowed. “I _will_ taste you, koneko.”

 

 _Oh, fuck no_ . Grimmjow lunged, snapping right back at him. His jaws clicked shut on nothing but air, the vampire gone _again_. “FUCK!”

 

The fucker pulled his tail, which fucking hurt, but by the time Grimmjow wheeled around, he was facing nothing but air. He was met only with disembodied laughter. A _playful_ , murderous, dickhead; just what he needed.

 

Grimmjow stopped trying to hold back on Kurosaki’s behalf, it wasn’t doing either of them any favors. He let go of the dam on his instincts, ears twitching at every whisper of sound. He wasn't the hunted, nooooo, he was the hunter, he wasn't going to be corralled and toyed with like some mouse. He was a king.

 

Kurosaki might be the dark, but the night was his home. He was king of this domain, it sharpened his teeth and surged in his blood; he wouldn’t be brought down by it like prey.

 

This time when Kurosaki attacked, Grimmjow let his body move of its own volition. He twisted and lunged, hitting Kurosaki in the chest. From the shock on Kurosaki's face, he hadn't expected retaliation. They hit the ground hard, sliding on damp leaves, and Grimmjow's jaws snapped shut on the thickly muscled juncture of his neck and shoulder. His teeth sank in deep, holding him still. To Grimmjow's confusion, Kurosaki didn't react like the vampire, he didn't panic and thrash or kick, he just stopped moving altogether.

 

Grimmjow could have gone for the jugular, but it was faster and easier to get a mouthful of his shoulder. He had his teeth locked too close to his throat for anyone to be happy about it. With the feral diffusion of Kurosaki's rational mind, Grimmjow expected him to fight, and he wasn't.

 

Kurosaki laid there and breathed, and with his mouth full of flesh and blood, Grimmjow could say nothing, he couldn't see his expression, and Kurosaki wasn't talking. Not about to let him up so he could carry on trying to kill him, Grimmjow held fast, locking his jaw.

 

Kurosaki's fingers found the slash over his chest, sinking into the wound gently, but cruelly, slipping over blood and exposed muscle.

 

Grimmjow grunted in pain, tightening his jaws with a growl. He reached to grab Kurosaki's forearm, his claws sinking between his bones, scraping the surface, but Kurosaki was still stronger. The vampire didn't stop until he reached his collarbone, claws snagging mangled flesh. Mother _fucker_ , that hurt.

 

As doped up as Kurosaki was, clearly he wasn't feeling any pain. Grimmjow could feel the Dark licking at Kurosaki's wounds around his teeth and claws. It tingled against his gums, but didn't harm him, Grimmjow didn't think Kurosaki was even doing it on purpose.

 

Kurosaki's hand slipped up to his neck, both of their arms trembling against the strain. Kurosaki's other hand fisted in his mane, pulling hard, but Grimmjow's teeth only sank deeper, tearing when the vampire yanked.

 

Grimmjow felt the wet pads of Kurosaki's fingers brushed over his carotid artery, slow, almost loving. The werecat stiffened in fear, fully expecting his throat to be ripped out. His growl deepened in pitch, wondering if this would really be what did him in. Death by vampire. Death by _coworker_ . _Christ_.

 

Kurosaki's fingers lingered, trembling under the strain of holding them there against all of Grimmjow's strength. Grimmjow knew he was feeling the pulse of his blood, counting every frightened heartbeat.

 

Grimmjow waited for it, expecting claws to dig between tendons and tear, but nothing happened.

 

Kurosaki suddenly went limp, and Grimmjow slammed his arm flat to loamy Earth. The vampire lung filled, breathing deep and Kurosaki let out a pained sounding whimper. “I'm gonna throw up.”

 

Grimmjow didn't move, trying to access what to do from the cadence of his breathing alone

 

“Get off.” Grimmjow didn’t move and Ichigo hissed, “ _Getoffgetoffgetoff_.”

 

The urgency and normalcy in his tone compelled Grimmjow to listen. Jaws slacking, Kurosaki pushed at his chest and rolled to his side, muscles seizing though a ragged dry heave.

 

Grimmjow took the opportunity to back off, heart still pounding. Kurosaki hacked, and the vile sound of a vampire throwing up nothing but blood was enough to turn even Grimmjow's stomach.

 

Getting to his feet, Grimmjow called out over his retching. “Are you dying?” Kurosaki kept retching, so Grimmjow made a judgement call.

 

Flipping his phone open, Grimmjow was shocked to see he had reception. Dialing his speed dial, he lifted it to his ear, and it only took one ring before Urahara answered. “Grimmjow-san.”

 

Grimmjow didn’t bother with backstory. “Kurosaki fed off a vamp, he's throwing up like a college freshmen on spring break.”

 

Kisuke made a disapproving sound. “Kurosaki-san is strong, I doubt this will kill him, and on the chance it doesn't, he's going to be very weak, and he's going to need blood. Yours is preferable.”

 

Grimmjow swore, watching the tremble in Kurosaki's arms. He glanced down at his own chest, noting he was healing, but it was sluggish and slow going. He should be healing faster, whatever it was about Kurosaki’s power, it was annoying, and it itched like all hell. He snapped, “Are you telling me _to let_ a vampire bite me?”

 

“Consider it first aid,” Kisuke said.

 

“He just tried to kill me.”

 

“I’m certain it wasn't personal. You have a panther God in you, Grimmjow-san. The power inherent in your blood will keep him alive.”

 

“Shit!” He snarled into the phone. “Did you send me out here on purpose, you asshole? Was I bait?”

 

Kisuke's tone turned serious. “Not entirely. Kurosaki has been walking a tightrope for some time Grimmjow-san. I had faith you would handle him.”

 

Kurosaki's arms gave out, collapsing on his face, and he didn't move.

 

Without bothering to say goodbye, Grimmjow pocketed the phone and crossed over to Kurosaki. He crouched, grabbed him by the shoulder to roll him to his back. By some miracle, Kurosaki was still conscious, yellow eyes blazing up at him. There was still plenty of fight there, but there was a creeping exhaustion hollowing the vampire out.

 

Grimmjow held his wrist out near his mouth and ordered, “Bite.”

 

Kurosaki only breathed, blinking foggily up at him. All that power had collapsed in on itself, doubling back on him twofold; Kurosaki wasn't just exhausted, he was skirting the edge of death. Grimmjow bared his teeth in annoyance, lifting his wrist to bite it himself.

 

Grimmjow got a hunk of tattered jacket in his claws and hauled Kurosaki closer, lowering his wrist to his lips. He pressed his wrist up against his lips, a bit taken aback by how soft they were. The vampire exhaled, tickling his fur, and he found the vampire’s breath was hotter than he expected.

 

Kurosaki was a fucking mess, he was drenched in blood, and all the damage Grimmjow had done hadn’t healed at all. The mauled mess of his neck was wet and slick with blood, the crescent shape of his teeth  dark with congealing blood. Under all that blood and gore, Grimmjow couldn’t even be sure he was drinking until he saw his throat work, swallowing a mouthful of blood.

 

That eased his mind more than Grimmjow thought it should. What did he care if there was one less vamp? But he wasn’t just a vampire, he was his partner, and this was just pathetic. He’d seen how strong he was, he felt it, and he wanted to feel it again. If he died like a bled out kitten in his own vomit, Grimmjow wasn’t really sure what he’d do. But he didn’t want that to happen.

 

The tightly coiled ball of anxiety in his throat unwound when Kurosaki drank, shallowly at first, and for moments, Grimmjow didn’t notice any change. Then Kurosaki inhaled deeply, pupils still blown, and spread his jaws around his wrist. The vampire leaned in closer, nose flush to darkened fur, and closed his eyes, focusing on his scent. With every second that passed, Grimmjow saw some of Kurosaki’s strength return to him.

 

Grimmjow felt the telltale prickle of healing along his wrist, Kurosaki groaning in frustration when his wrist healed. There wasn’t much Grimmjow could do about that, but he could sur his instincts into action. He tried again. “ _Bite_.”

 

Kurosaki reached up, sticky fingers sliding along his forearm with a grip so weak, Grimmjow’s stomach twisted. He wasn’t used to this, he worked alone for two reasons, reasons he thought were pretty valid. He didn’t take care of things, of people, he killed them. Holding someone’s life in his hands was a thrill, but not like this, this just made him feel sick.

 

Grip tightening on his arm, Kurosaki’s jaw worked, and Grimmjow felt the sharp pinch of his fangs breaking skin. “That’s it,” he encouraged, “you stupid, fangy asshole.”

 

Grimmjow watched him drink, and only reached for his phone again when he was certain Kurosaki was through the worst of it.

 

He called a friend...acquaintance...colleague? He hoped she was awake, or at the very least curious enough to answer, since he’d never once called her in his life.

 

There was a second of confused silence. “Grimmjow?”

 

Grimmjow grit his teeth, swallowed his pride, and said, “I need a favor.” Just the very act of saying those words allowed grated on him, but anyone he could have counted on was dead. Nel also had a car.

 

“Okay.”

 

She didn’t say anything else, but Grimmjow had a hard time believing it would be so easy. “I need you to come pick me up.”

 

“...okay.”  There were a lot of questions buried within everything she didn’t say.

 

“Bring towels. Towels you aren’t that attached to.” Grimmjow looked back down and the blood and filth covering them both and added, “And lots of bottled water.”

 

\---xxx---

 

**Ichigo Kurosaki**

 

Everything was a blur, up until water hit him in the face. Spluttering and cringing back, he slurred, “What?”

 

He smelled blood, _lots of it,_ and from the way his skin tightened when he grimaced, he was covered in it. Drenched. He blinked, wincing in pain, and lifted his hand for his shoulder. Someone stopped him with a firm grip on his wrist.

 

“Don’t.”

 

Ichigo inhaled again, coughed and caught sharp blue eyes. “Grimmjow?”

 

“Yeah, leech, Grimmjow. You in there?”

 

“Yes?” Ichigo wasn’t sure what he was asking, so he guessed. His awareness came back to him in parts, realizing several things at once. “I feel like I drank bleach.”

 

“ _Yeah_ ,” Grimmjow snarled, “You pretty much did, stupid.”

 

Ichigo looked down at himself and started breathing faster, memories coming back in a trickle, then a landslide. His jacket and his shirt was gone, leaving his chest bare, sticky with red. “I-I...I…” He killed someone...something. Possibly not the same as killing a human, but it _felt_ the same. Vampires had emotions and needs and desires, and he'd ended all of that. _With joy._

 

“Hold your breath.”

 

Ichigo looked up. “Wha-” Water was dumped on his head, flattening his hair to his head and spilling over his chest to soak his pants. He shivered, the wind biting, heedless of his panic. “H-holy shi-shit, _stop_!”

 

Grimmjow was already reaching for another bottle, plastic crunching in his palm as he untwisted the cap. “Nel's windows aren't tinted. It's Halloween, sure, but someone is bound to ask questions if they see you bloody and looking like death at a traffic stop.”

 

“O-oh.” Ichigo shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. More water was dumped on his head, a hard shiver wracked his shoulders.

 

The sharp sting of Grimmjow's scent was all over him, and judging from the fact he was sitting in the road propped up against a car, Grimmjow must have carried him. But his taste.

 

His blood.

 

He remembered.

 

Ichigo suffered through more water, and Grimmjow doused a towel, handing it to him. Ichigo took it, scrubbing his face with it, and stared at Grimmjow in hunger and need.

 

A hard look crossed the werecats face. “ _No_. No way in hell are you getting more from me.”

 

Shame burned in Ichigo's chest like a punch to the gut, and he looked away.

 

“ _Hey_!”

 

Ichigo looked. “Cut that out,” Grimmjow snarled. “Shit like that is the reason we're in this mess in the first place.”

 

“I don't bite,” Ichigo said lamely. Well, now he did, but he didn't want to, and now all of his fears came true in a single night.

 

Grimmjow's eyes narrowed, assessing. His ears twitched, flattening a touch in aggression. “I gathered as much. I know a starved vamp when I see one. Desperate enough to drink _poison_.”  Grimmjow’s lip curled in disgust and he balled up a towel, throwing it at Ichigo’s face. “Dry off, we need to go.”

 

Ichigo started with his hair, tracking Grimmjow as he stood and shrugged out of his jacket. Ichigo asked, “Go where?”

 

“Your coven, retard.” He peeled his tattered shirt off with a hiss of pain and muttered, “I ain’t qualified for this shit.”

 

Coven…”You don’t mean Shinji? I’m not _in_ his coven.”

 

“Book club, knitting circle, I don’t give a flying fuck, but he’s a vampire and he’s on our side, so I’m dumping you with him,” Grimmjow snapped.

 

Ichigo’s eyes wandered over Grimmjow’s back, watching the werecat scrub a wet towel over his fur in a vain attempt to clean himself. His fur was thick, it seemed like a lost cause. Ichigo said, “Why not shift back?”

 

Grimmjow shot him a venomous look and growled, the sound low and inhuman. “I’ve lost a lot of blood, I heal faster like this.”

 

The werecat shot a look down the street, and following that look, Ichigo saw a woman at the bend, arms crossed and shoulders hunched against the wind. He could only assume this was Nel, and from the way she huddled beneath her coat, her bare legs and flip flops, she looked to be in her pajamas. Well now he _really_ felt bad.

 

Ichigo asked, “What time is it?”

 

“Che, I don’t fucking know.”

 

“You have a phone,” Ichigo reminded.

 

“I didn’t look,” Grimmjow snapped, “Why the fuck do you care?”

 

Ichigo wrapped his damp towel around his shoulders and cast a look down the street at the green-haired stranger. “She’s going out of her way, right?”

 

Grimmjow made a disgusted sound. “It’s a favor for me, so fucking shut up about it.” Before Ichigo could argue, he thrust a hand into his face in an offer to help him up. Ichigo blinked, then took his hand, the pulse of blood beneath his skin mesmerizing.

 

Ichigo thought he was fine, he thought his self control was back, but it all went out the window when he touched Grimmjow. He thought about biting, he thought about blood, and he found himself pressed flat against the car, Grimmjow’s other hand tight around his mouth.

 

The werecat leaned in and said simply, “ _No_.”

 

That made it worse, damp and drying fur flush to his nose. He inhaled. The acid bite of Grimmjow’s scent stuck his thoughts together like taffy. He had a taste and now he craved it, the need clawing at his chest in a way he couldn’t ignore. He forgot the tire rim digging into his back, the bite of the cold on bare skin, and he _wanted_.

 

Something changed on Grimmjow’s face, his grip over his mouth increasing enough to draw a grunt of pain from Ichigo. Grimmjow blinked, brows falling in something close to concern, and he pushed Ichigo up the side of the car by his head.

 

Bare skin skid and squealed over the side of the car until Ichigo found his feet, eyes squeezed shut in pain. His hands shot up to grab Grimmjow’s arm, his own grip weak in comparison. That shouldn’t have hurt so much, but his limbs were so heavy and his skin prickled, oversensitive and cold.

 

Grimmjow’s eyes stayed locked on Ichigo’s, and whatever he saw there compelled him to hold fast. He called, “Nelliel!”

 

Ichigo’s eyes roamed from Grimmjow’s throat, to his face, his wrist, then his chest, as if he could see the heart beating there. It felt like an eternity passed before Ichigo heard the slap of shoes and the back and forth of conversation. All of it was drowned out by Grimmjow’s heartbeat, steady and strong, just inches away.

 

Grimmjow took his hand away just long enough to shift it to his throat. He rebelled at this idea, but he didn’t think he was strong enough to fight it. He knew he wasn’t. Frustration flared in his chest and bloomed into desperation.

 

That all went away when a rag was pressed to his nose, the scent of it sharp and piercing, chemical and unnatural. He jerked his head back, and the rag along with that dizzying smell followed. Grimmjow’s scent was gone, and each breath made him feel heavier, until he knew nothing at all.

 

\--- xxx ---

 

Voices stabbed into his senses, loud and angry, but Ichigo couldn’t make heads or tails of any of it for long, irritating moments. He felt like he should be awake, so he fought sleep, pain prickling along his shoulders and neck. That was weird, but  when he tested it, he found he couldn’t move his arms at all.

 

Blinking blearily at the room, Ichigo didn’t recognize a damn thing. Acid washed concrete, exposed rebar, and faded graffiti. Wait…

 

“Fuck that, Nel’s right up front, use her.”

 

“Have you seen him? He’ll drain her dry.”

 

“What about _me_?!”

 

“She’s a regular shifter, it’ll take her a week before she’s back up to speed. Be a fucking gentleman.”

 

A loud snort. “I’m not a blood vending machine. I did more than my share, get out of my way.”

 

“You stay an’ he’s up tomorrow. Leave and he’s down for a week. That’s on you.”

 

“ _Fuck you,_ I ain’t his keeper.”

 

“Sure, this is ultimately Ichigo’s fault, but _this_ is on you.”

 

Ichigo rolled his head back and tugged his wrists, the sound of clanking metal unreasonably loud. He caught sight of metal cuffs through a sharp headache. Not handcuffs, something stronger, something he wouldn’t be afraid to call shackles. When he was weak as a kitten, that felt a lot like overkill.

 

The sound seemed to silence the voices in the room, seemingly gaining their attention. He closed his eyes again and mumbled, “Shinji, you can’t be serious.”

 

“About the cuffs? I’m deadly serious, they stay.”

 

“Feels kinky,” Ichigo muttered. “Unnecessary.” Stringing together sentences felt like too much work, so he stopped trying.

 

Heavy footsteps near the bed had him opening his eyes again, squinting through the discomfort. Grimmjow scowled down at him with such intensity, Ichigo started to feel vulnerable. The werecat looked human again, wearing a jacket that didn’t appear to belong to him, with absolutely nothing underneath it, giving Ichigo an eyeful of a pink, healing scar from his clavicle to his waist. He barely remembered it, but he knew he did that.

 

It was something of a miracle he hadn’t gutted the shifter, which filled him with a confusing mix of pride and guilt, but knowing he took a hit like that and bounced back in _hours_ was...appealing.

 

Then the displacement of the air washed his scent over him in a wave, and he couldn’t remember why he was uncomfortable to begin with.

 

He tugged on the cuffs, metal grinding against itself and into his wrists. He arched off the bed only to fall back with a hiss. Trapped, trapped, _trapped_ , he was _right there_ . Ichigo chuckled, flashing Grimmjow a strained smile, but he didn’t smile back. “I really, _really_ want to bite you.”

 

\---xxx---

 

**Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez**

 

It pissed Grimmjow off to know Shinji was right. The animal need in blackened eyes was familiar. Kurosaki was there, but buried under a mountain of need and instinct.

 

Sprawled out on his back in nothing but boxers, he painted a pretty pathetic picture, but that serpentine twist of his spine was nothing but alluring. Grimmjow caught himself staring, his eyes raking over his thighs, along the tension in stretched abs, to those cold, amber eyes. If Kurosaki had been drowsy before, he was certainly awake now.

 

Keeping the vampire under on the drive here had been a chore and a half. They went through enough tranqs to put down a horse, and he still woke up sooner than he should have. Fucker was resilient, it almost made Grimmjow like him.

 

Watching the vampire fight to free himself, he felt the same clawing sense of responsibility he felt in the woods. Kurosaki liked his scent; Shinji explained a lot of that had to do with the fact he was strong, which was flattering, but the rest was all Kurosaki. That was a bit of an ego boost he hadn’t known he’d needed. This strong as fuck asshole wanted him; who wouldn’t be flattered?

 

All he had to do now was decide what to do about it.

 

Kurosaki’s irises were nothing but slivers, and now that they both were finally clean and not in crippling pain, Grimmjow had to admit he didn’t dislike that look.

 

Grimmjow growled, “I’ll stay.”

 

He sat on the side of the edge of the bed, the weight depressing the mattress and pulling Ichigo closer. The vampire took advantage of that, rubbing his shin along his lower back. Grimmjow heard the door click shut, and he made a point not to look back. It was just a door, it wasn’t like there wasn’t any escape. He chose to look down at Kurosaki instead.

 

This could go so many different ways; good, bad, he didn’t want to think about it, and from the glazed look in Kurosaki’s eyes, the vampire couldn’t spare the effort to think.

 

Sleep gnawed at the fringes of his thoughts, the sun was already brightening the sky, but this was important. Grimmjow twisted, laying a hand on Ichigo’s chest, just above his heart. “I know you understand, leech, you listening?”

 

Kurosaki muttered, “I hear you.”

 

Grimmjow was struck again by how warm he was, his fingers splayed over smooth skin. He healed far too quickly, even his bite was almost gone, fading to pink on tanned skin.

 

Kurosaki’s eyes settled on his throat in keen interest when Grimmjow spoke. “I’m gonna feed you, and get outta here. You got that?” The vampire just stared, eyes tracing the bend of his throat. “Hey, _leech_. You got that?”

 

“Fine, fine, whatever,” Kurosaki growled, “Come here.”

 

Grimmjow had second thoughts, fears he quickly squashed. Was he scared of a chained up, weak, vampire? No. So there was no problem.

 

Considering how to do this, Grimmjow wondered if he should offer his wrist again. That felt like pussying out; he had all the control here, Kurosaki was the one that had to conform to what _he_ wanted. He saw no reason to hide his throat from him. Sharp teeth, necessity, and pure need; none of these things scared him. He wanted Kurosaki to know that.

 

Crawling up on the bed, Grimmjow threw his leg over Kurosaki’s waist, settling his weight down on the vampire. For a moment, Kurosaki stopped breathing, staring up at him in unwavering interest. This time his eyes locked on gold, neither wanting to look away.

 

Curious, Grimmjow moved his hand, his palm sliding up to his collarbone, stopped short when his fingers hit the hollow of his throat. He traced the hard angle of his Adam’s apple with his thumb, to the soft, yielding flesh beneath his jaw. He tilted his head back, and to his surprise, Kurosaki let him. The vampire stopped breathing entirely, eyes locked on Grimmjow’s with sudden clarity.

 

That was interesting.

 

“You wanna bite?” Grimmjow asked. His voice sounded too sluggish, too rough, too uncertain.

 

“Yes.” Kurosaki’s answer was so broken, Grimmjow felt unfairly sadistic for asking. Even after letting the vampire bite him once, this felt oddly different, personal. He reminded himself; life or death. That’s all this was, life or death.

 

Yeah.

 

That’s all.

 

Grimmjow didn’t let that thought linger, moving his hand up to his lips, and without giving Kurosaki an opportunity to decide, he forced the fleshy gap between his forefinger and thumb into his mouth. The vampire’s sudden bite startled him, even when he invited it.

 

Kurosaki groaned, the sound tickled his skin, and Grimmjow swallowed thickly. The sudden suction was a sensation he could honestly say he’d never felt before. It was almost painful, but with the voracity that Kurosaki gnawed and sucked, Grimmjow was entranced.

 

Beneath Grimmjow, Kurosaki moved, an undulated wave of his whole body, and the werecat stiffened, unprepared for the jolt of pleasure that caused. He was just feeding the vampire, that’s all the was, that’s all he was doing. He growled, “Be still.”

 

Kurosaki made a sound, his brows furrowing, and it took Grimmjow a few long seconds to realize he’d whined.

 

The vampire actually _whined_ , and despite how cruel it might be, Grimmjow tugged at his hand, trying to pull away from his bite. That didn't look like it was going to work without losing a sizeable chunk of his palm, so he pressed into the hinge of his jaw with his other hand, forcing his jaws to part.

 

Hand free, Grimmjow studied the bite, a notably cleaner bite from earlier, then the vampire below him. Kurosaki let out a heavy, disappointed breath, and watched Grimmjow in expectant confusion.

 

Kurosaki’s confusion translated into pure curiosity for the werecat. He raised his hand above his chest, and squeezed it into a fist, blood dripping onto his chest in bright red spatters. Kurosaki’s expression grew pained, hands jerking the chain taut. He was no stronger than before, but he was a good deal more determined.

 

Feeling a hint guilty, Grimmjow cast a look back at the door to be sure they were alone, despite all of his senses reassuring him that they were. He felt a lot like he was teasing a chained dog. Rude to the vampire, to consider him a rabid dog, but it wasn’t like this fangy asshole had to know.

 

Grimmjow lowered his hand, leaving it just out of reach. Blood welled from the already healing puncture on the thick of his palm and ran a red line to the heel of his hand. Eyes locked on the red sweep of blood on his skin, Kurosaki squirmed between his legs. Heat flared along Grimmjow’s cheeks. That was interesting, even if it was decidedly _not_ what he was there for.

 

Rather than wait for Kurosaki to beg for a literal drop of blood, Grimmjow had some mercy and lowered his hand back to his mouth. The vampire eagerly attacked his hand, a warm, wet tongue tracing every curve of his fingers, before settling on his first bite to suck.

 

He half expected the vampire to try to eat him alive, but he didn’t feel teeth at all. It seemed like Kurosaki was making a solid effort to keep his fangs from needlessly harming him. It was oddly thoughtful, and demonstrated a level of control he didn’t expect.

 

Leaving his hand to Kurosaki’s whims, Grimmjow felt inspired by his own curiosity. Bracing himself on an arm, he dipped down low, rasping his tongue over a drop of blood Kurosaki had feared wasted. The vampire sighed, his tongue’s motion halted briefly in surprise. Grimmjow dragged his own tongue along the hard lines of his chest, lapping up his own blood. He didn’t see the appeal, it was coppery and salty, it was fine. Maybe because it was his own blood, but he didn’t see the hype.

 

He glanced up at the vampire, and saw that the feeling wasn’t mutual.

 

Kurosaki’s jaws were parted, whitened fangs visible as he panted for breath. Grimmjow realized he’d pulled his hand out of reach, and now Kurosaki was left to stare in heavy lidded desire.

 

Heat flooded Grimmjow’s cheeks again, reminding himself again what he was supposed to be doing. “Kurosaki.” The sound of his own voice startled him, and Kurosaki didn’t even seem to have heard him, so he swallowed and tried again. “ _Kurosaki_.”

 

Yellow eyes flicked from his hand to his throat. Close enough.

 

“If you chew up my throat I swear I’ll rip your teeth out, ya hear me?”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Kurosaki groaned.

 

Grimmjow had a feeling he was wasting his time, Kurosaki had the look of someone obsessed. Well, at least he tried, no one could claim otherwise.

 

Leaning in close, Grimmjow hesitated, shifting his weight to his elbows. Kurosaki tugged at his wrists  again and rose up off the bed to try to reach. Failing that, Kurosaki fell back and hissed, the sound ringing of desperation rather than aggression.

 

Grimmjow raised a hand to Kurosaki’s neck, his grip loose, but he didn’t think he could offer his throat to a near stranger otherwise.

 

Sucking up a lifetime of instinctual fear, Grimmjow bared his throat, well within biting distance. Kurosaki leaned in, strangely just as cautious. The vampire’s breath was staggered and humid, his lips so close to vulnerable flesh, Grimmjow could feel the itch in his skin. Just _do it_ . Bite, _bite_ , get it over with.

 

Kurosaki didn’t bite. Expecting the sharp sting of fangs, Grimmjow was startled by the warm press of lips. The knowledge that this could switch to pain at Kurosaki’s whims and self control sent a shock of something uniquely pleasurable up Grimmjow’s spine. The anticipation alone had his guts coiled in knots, so uncertain of what Kurosaki would do.

 

Lips spread over the pulse of his artery, Kurosaki’s tongue traced the rigid lines of his tendons, seeking his veins or tasting him, Grimmjow simply didn’t know, but it felt _good_.

 

Shifting his weight higher, Grimmjow found his stomach flush to Kurosaki’s, pressing his throat closer. Whatever Kurosaki was waiting for, the anticipation wasn’t why Grimmjow was there. He snarled, “ _Bite_.”

 

Pain stabbed along his neck, sending an unexpected jolt of pleasure tingling along his arms and shoulders. It ached, it felt strange, but Kurosaki’s mouth latched to his neck became the center of his focus. The vampire’s tongue swirled over the bite he’d made, and with each second, Grimmjow grew more and more relaxed, until he exhaled and realized he was lying directly on top of Kurosaki, his front plastered against a needy vampire.

 

Kurosaki mouthed his throat, surprisingly affectionate. After watching him drain a vampire to death, he was expecting a little more... violence?

 

Kurosaki's teeth pinched his skin in a nip, and Grimmjow tested a theory. He growled like he was annoyed, and Kurosaki abruptly stopped, licking and sucking his throat instead. Grimmjow blamed it on instinct, and the reality that he was stronger, and Kurosaki was vulnerable, despite being the one with his teeth in his throat.

 

It made him wonder how much of this was instinct, and how much was Kurosaki.

 

Bracing himself with one arm, Grimmjow reached down with the other to smooth a hand along Kurosaki's side. The vampire shivered and tensed, nervous, but not enough to tear his teeth away. Grimmjow dug his fingers in, dragging lines along the dip and curve of his ribs. Kurosaki jerked at the cuffs, and Grimmjow paused.

 

Kurosaki didn’t smell afraid, no, this was something hot and raw that he recognized.

 

For the first time since he crawled on top of him, Grimmjow was distinctly aware of how little Kurosaki was wearing. The vampire rolled his hips up against Grimmjow’s leg, the motion carrying over into a sensual slide of muscle against his whole body. “Kurosaki.”

 

The vampire grunted in reply, but didn’t bother responding. Thoughts fuzzy around the edges, Grimmjow wondered what Kurosaki was doing. It wasn't blood loss, he knew what that felt like. This felt like drifting along the edge of sleep, and it was comfortable enough to make Grimmjow nervous.

 

Kurosaki either felt or heard the uptick in his heartbeat, because his reaction was swift. Raising his knee, he rubbed it alongside the side of his thigh, his hips pressing up into him again.

 

Confused, Grimmjow flattened Kurosaki under his weight, pinning him against the mattress. “Dammit, Kurosaki, I'm not gonna do that.”

 

That seemed to be enough to draw Kurosaki's mouth from his bite, laving a wet tongue over a wound Grimmjow thought should hurt, but oddly didn't.

 

Kurosaki spoke through sloppy kisses along the side of his throat. “You think you're taking advantage.”

 

Grimmjow asked, “You can barely move.” Kurosaki let out an annoyed sound that could have passed for a groan of pleasure. Grimmjow tried not to think about that and demanded, “Prove you’re not.”

 

Voice rough, Kurosaki asked, “ _This_ isn’t proof enough for you?”

 

Grimmjow pushed away from him, only enough to look down at him. Kurosaki’s pupils were blown wide, amber eyes fixed on him in want, but they weren’t feral or mad, not like before. Grimmjow asked anyway. “This? How can you actually want _this_?” Kurosaki glared, but to his credit, he only looked down at his throat once.

 

Grimmjow carried on, “If you weren’t starving, I wouldn’t be here, I wouldn’t even be talkin’ to you.”

 

Hurt flashed across Kurosaki’s face like he’d been struck. Perfect. Now he was _that_ asshole. “Look, I’m just sayin’, we wouldn’t be doin this at all if you didn’t need blood. I’m just the tasty snack you tried to kill.”

 

The pain in Kurosaki’s eyes flickering into something closer to self loathing, a smile like a grimace on his face. “So if it isn’t instinct, I’m just a slut?”

 

Grimmjow growled, “I didn’t say that.”

 

Kurosaki jerked his wrists, this time with real strength behind it, bucking his hips up to push him off, but Grimmjow stayed put, pinned by the hurt and fury in those eyes. “So what if it’s instinct?” Kurosaki asked. “You taste _good_.” The moan woven into that word raised the hair on the back of Grimmjow’s neck. “And you’re right, I’m just the guy that tried to kill you, maybe I’m the asshole that’s going to take what he can get before you’re gone.”

 

Grimmjow arched a brow and summarized. “ _You’re_ using _me_?” He snorted. “That’s a helluva lot of mental gymnastics. Maybe I don’t want to be a part of your escapist bullshit.”

 

Kurosaki grit his teeth through a frustrated snarl. “You’re so confusing. What the hell are you doing here then?”

 

That was a good question. Grimmjow realized he could have sat there and given him his wrist, _he_ started all this, and he was the one to try to stop it. Why?

 

Grimmjow stared down at him long enough that the vampire started to get uncomfortable. Grimmjow growled, “Stop that.”

 

There was a desperate edge to Kurosaki’s voice. “Stop what?”

 

“Hating what you are. It’s really pathetic.”

 

Kurosaki bared his teeth in a soft hiss and looked away. “You don’t even _like_ me. Go away.”

 

“You piss me off, but you think I’d be here if I fucking hated you?” Kurosaki wouldn’t look at him, so he took his chin in hand and forced him to look. The vampire snapped at his hand, but Grimmjow jerked it out of reach, leaving the vampire frustrated and fuming. At least he had his full attention. “ _I’m_ the asshole here, not you, you fangy bastard.”

 

Kurosaki looked confused, so Grimmjow made damn sure he was clear. “Yes, I want to fuck you, but that’s not what I stayed for.” Kurosaki blinked up at him owlishly, his cheeks flushed and red.

 

Grimmjow still found Kurosaki an oddity; a living vampire. He wasn’t something to gawk at or prod, he was worth more respect than that. He said, “I’m makin’ this up as I go along, alright? It’s kinda hard to tell if you wanna eat me alive or _eat_ me.”

 

That blush darkened, Kurosaki’s tongue darting out to wet his lips, but his eyes never strayed from Grimmjow’s own. With the sudden realization that Kurosaki wasn’t just hungry, but _interested_ , the werecat made up his mind.

 

Grimmjow slid his hand up his chest to Kurosaki’s neck, keeping out of reach of a bite. He slid his fingers around his throat, tightening his grip just enough for Kurosaki’s brows to draw tight in confusion. This was probably really stupid, but he hadn’t ever claimed to be smart.

 

Holding the vampire still beneath his hand, Grimmjow leaned in and kissed him, which allowed neither of them a chance to wonder why he was doing that in the first place. Kurosaki froze, his lips soft and feverishly hot against his own.

 

Grimmjow fully expected to be bitten, he wasn’t exactly a nice guy and he’d said some stupid shit, but the pain he anticipated didn’t happen. Kurosaki’s lips parted first, tongue swiping against his lips. He pushed up against his hand, but Grimmjow held him down. He could take a chance, but he wasn’t going to loosen the leash enough to lose control of the situation. He wasn’t sure why he needed that, he just knew that he did.

 

Parting his lips, Grimmjow let Kurosaki hungrily explore his mouth. It took a second to crush his common sense and actually stick his tongue down Kurosaki’s throat. His tongue grazed sharpened fangs and Kurosaki arched up into him with a moan. Grimmjow wasn’t even sure if he’d nicked himself or not, his lips were as numb as his tongue, warm and tingling. No, that was wrong, he felt everything, but there was no pain, only prickling pressure.

 

That feeling spread like wildfire, and Grimmjow wondered what his hang up had been, he simply couldn’t remember. He was kissing Kurosaki and it was fucking _great_.

 

He pulled back to breathe, Kurosaki’s teeth delicately catching his lower lip. The vampire sucked, and Grimmjow fought his self control to lean back in.

 

Steeling himself, Grimmjow pulled back out of reach. Staring down at the vampire, he couldn’t help but notice the blood smeared around his lips–– _his_ blood. It almost looked like smeared lipstick, which should have been humorous, but it was nothing short of arousing. Kurosaki’s lips were still parted in desperate gasps, Grimmjow’s eyes locked on his tongue as it swept up from the corner of his mouth along his upper lip.

 

His eyes dark with lust, Kurosaki said, “You kissed me.”

 

The rough carelessness of those words went straight to his groin. Grimmjow licked his own lips and said, “Yeah...yeah that’s usually what they call that.”

 

“Smartass,” Kurosaki growled. “Why?”

 

“Lots of reasons,” Grimmjow said. “Mostly cause I wanted to. Feels a little unfair to steal one when you’re weak and tied up.”

 

A frown tugged at Kurosaki’s lips, clearly displeased by that observation, but irritated it wasn’t wrong. Grimmjow slowly let go of his throat, his hand sliding up his jaw to his lips. Grimmjow smeared the blood from the corner of his mouth, and something like panic crossed Kurosaki’s face. The vampire warned, “Do you have to do that?”

 

“You want to bite,” Grimmjow observed. A shudder shot through Kurosaki, the mere mention of it enough to make him bite his own lip. “I’d tell you not to hold back on my behalf, but…” He slid his thumb beneath Kurosaki’s upper lip, tracing a fang. The vampire’s lips curled in a snarl, the need to snap written all over his face. Grimmjow kept tempting fate, tracing the edge of his canine to his gums, pushing his lip back to admire. He bared his teeth in a silent snarl. “But I kind of like it.”

 

Kurosaki could _make_ him stop, he was clearly uncomfortable, but he didn’t, he only turned his head to the side, watching him with narrowed eyes. Grimmjow let his thumb slip from that fang, forcing the digit between his lips.

 

Breathing labored, Kurosaki flinched, shutting down a volatile reaction to move. Grimmjow made a disapproving sound, even if he was impressed by the vampire’s efforts. He pressed the pad of his thumb down on his tongue experimentally. Kurosaki’s face scrunched in annoyance, but his jaws parted with a sharp inhale.

 

Unless his nose was lying to him, it seemed like the vampire was enjoying this as much as he was. Grimmjow rolled his hips down into the vampire, stealing a heavy gasp from them both. He held his thumb there long enough that Kurosaki started to drool, his tongue fighting to free itself, so Grimmjow pressed down harder. It would be so easy for Kurosaki to stop him, but he held back. The excitement of that crawled up his back and across his shoulders, sinking into his gut in lust.

 

All those years of self control, and _this_ is what he used it for.

 

Kurosaki stared up at him, clearly breathing through his mouth rather than his nose, judging from the warm wash of his breath over his skin. It lit a fire in his blood that he didn’t want to ignore. He withdrew his hand, throwing caution to the wind and replacing it with his own mouth. Kurosaki let out a muffled sound of want, lost in Grimmjow’s moan.

 

He should have expected it after all that restraint. Kurosaki pulled at the cuffs, leaning up into the kiss with sudden violence. His fangs caught Grimmjow’s lips and tongue, rough and overeager. He tasted copper, but he ignored it, finding it to be tame compared to what Kurosaki could have done.

 

Rolling his hips down into the vampire beneath him, Kurosaki did surprisingly little damage in return, pulling away from the kiss to lick the blood from his face.

 

He could honestly say that was a new sensation, but with the added fire of arousal, _anything_ would feel good.

 

Grimmjow didn’t linger, feeling so much control garnered a reward, or rather, what Kurosaki wanted from the beginning, and he’d taken away.

 

This time it was easy to bare his throat, he was too far lost in everything that made up Kurosaki. Beneath the commercial scent of sweet and fruity shampoo, was the metallic, sharp scent of a vampire; dangerous, but alluring. It was easy to ignore after years of practice, but when he chose to indulge it and everything that came with it, it was _good_.

 

Holding himself up on a folded arm, Grimmjow held himself well within biting distance. It was unexpected, after all that, to feel nothing but Kurosaki’s tongue. Raising his other hand to Kurosaki’s head, he ghosted his fingertips along his jaw to tangle in his hair, damp from the shower or sweat, he didn’t care. His voice was low, breathless. “Kurosaki, bite. _Drink_.”

 

The sudden, sharp pressure of his fangs piercing his throat was lost on the backdrop of fuzzy pleasure. It should have hurt more, but the ache was replaced by the feeling of Kurosaki’s hips, grinding his erection up against the taut muscle of his stomach.

 

Grimmjow growled in his chest, but the hand in Kurosaki’s hair never ceased kneading and tugging, so the vampire didn’t take it as a signal to stop. If anything, his jaws tightened.

 

Some small, distant part of Grimmjow’s thoughts reminded him this would have to end eventually, but he silenced that thought.

 

Kurosaki was already so close to coming, heavy breaths doubling in tempo against his throat. The lurid depth of Kurosaki’s scent was just kindling to his own desires; all that pleasure for him, _because_ of him. It stroked his ego and his arousal in a way no one ever had before. The vampire was weak _now_ ; a fleeting, temporary thing. He smelled of something powerful. Something currently pinned beneath him, pliant and willing. He had no idea why Kurosaki would let him, but with each clumsy thrust of their hips, he cared less and less about how he’d gotten there.

 

The vampire tightened his jaws around his throat enough to drag a grunt of pain from Grimmjow, his legs twisting around the werecats for leverage. The grind of his hips lost any sense of rhythm and Grimmjow rumbled, “You need to cum, vampire? Can you taste how much I want you?”

 

Kurosaki started to moan, the sound vibrating against his throat and skirting over sensitive nerves. Grimmjow dropped his hips down hard, flattening Kurosaki against the bed. The sudden and unexpected weight smothered Kurosaki’s ability to move and his jaws tightened around his neck, muscles tensing beneath him.

 

Kurosaki’s groan bordered on pain, legs tightening around the back of his thighs. Grimmjow felt the slick dampness against his stomach, Kurosaki’s moans leveling into something drawn out and pitiful. His jaws and limbs loosened, enough for Grimmjow to swap which arm held up his weight.

 

Tugging on Kurosaki’s hair, he pried the vampire away from his throat. Grimmjow readjusted his weight on the vampire’s stomach to reach for the chains. He got a good grip, and with a jerk, he snapped the chain between the cuffs on Kurosaki's wrists, and consequently from the wall. He wasn’t feeling particularly chatty enough to go find a key, so this would have to do. He was just going to have a heavy set of trendy bracelets for awhile.

 

Kurosaki slowly lowered his arms, wincing at the pain of cramping muscles. Yellow eyes looked up at him from beneath furrowed brows, exhausted, but they lacked the feral desperation Grimmjow had seen before. Now he merely looked spent.

 

The vampire gave him a once over and stated the obvious. “You didn’t cum.”

 

Grimmjow shifted and growled, “So what?”

 

Kurosaki reached for Grimmjow’s stomach, his fingers tracing a line along the healing edge of the scar he'd give him, but he only made it a solid second before Grimmjow gripped his shoulder and pushed him back. “A few hours ago you were dying. No.”

 

An insulted look crossed Kurosaki's face and he said, “A few hours ago I didn't get to drink the blood of a _God_.”

 

“How'd you figure _that_ out?”

 

Kurosaki wrinkled his nose. “I'm not stupid, that's how.” His expression softened and he said, “I feel pretty good, actually.”

 

“So I can see myself out,” Grimmjow said. The emotions that flickered across Kurosaki's face we're too numerous to analyze, but none of them were positive.”You should work on your poker face.”

 

That kicked Kurosaki from his thoughts, anger steeled his expression. “No.”

 

“No?” Truth be told, it was the answer he hoped for. His task was accomplished, the vampire was fed, but he wanted an excuse to stay.

 

It was a chore and a half to ignore his body's desires when Kurosaki crawled over him, flattening him against the bed. The vampire reiterated, “ _No_. You did something for me...so.”

 

He left that statement hanging, and Grimmjow scowled. “I didn't do any of that so you'd _owe_ me, asshole. I'm not into debts.”

 

Kurosaki bared bloody teeth in a snarl. “Fine, then stay because I said so.”

 

“Get off me,” Grimmjow warned.

 

“Or what?” Kurosaki asked. The challenge in his eyes burned, looking completely sane for the first time that night.

 

It was a good look, and with his extremities still tingling and Kurosaki’s weight settled right on his clothed, strained erection, it was a compelling argument. “If I wanted to I could dump your ass on the floor,” Grimmjow said, his voice a little thicker than he wanted it to be.

 

“You won’t,” Kurosaki said, irritatingly confident.

 

“I liked you better with your mouth full.”

 

Kurosaki’s eyes flashed. “Did you?”

 

Shit.

 

Grimmjow’s eyes narrowed, hissing in an uncomfortable combination of pain and pleasure when Kurosaki leaned back on his lap. His hips jerked up and a satisfied smile spread across Kurosaki’s face.

 

Grimmjow growled, “Don’t look so smug.”

 

Holding himself up with a hand on his stomach, Kurosaki slid further down the bed, his cheeks still flushed red enough to clash with his hair. The vampire dragged his hand down, lingering over the bulge in his pants. “Why are you so opposed?”

 

“I got the little speech from your not-coven.” Kurosaki's brows furrowed, genuinely confused. “You’re some hotshot vampire, I'm gutter trash, and I ain't interested in being some vampire plaything.”

 

Kurosaki intoned dully. “Hotshot vampire...you don't even know me.”

 

“And _you_ don't know _me_! It's been a real long, shitty night, I wanna go home.” That wasn't true, he hated his place. It was dark and quiet and empty, it was just four walls and a front door to keep out the neighborhood.

 

Grimmjow thought he was a pretty good liar, but the hurt in Kurosaki's face was too fleeting. The vampire rubbed his hand over his crotch and hissed, “Liar.”

 

He wasn't used to being called out, let alone by someone with his dick just about in their hand. He grit his teeth through a grunt of pleasure and Kurosaki said, “If you want me to stop, make me.”

 

Grimmjow shifted so he was propped up higher on his elbows, and Kurosaki started tugging his zipper down. Well, _the_ zipper, these weren’t even his pants. Not his pants, not his bed, not his life; it felt to bizarre to not just go along with it. Leaving now just felt like running.

 

When he made no move to kick him off, Kurosaki, continued, even more careful with the zipper once he realized he was going commando. The vampire shot him a look and raised a brow. “Shinji didn’t let you borrow _underwear_?”

 

Grimmjow scoffed, “I turned him down.”

 

Kurosaki’s expression turned deeply skeptical. “You fight commando?”

 

“No, _stupid_ . I’m not putting _anything_ that touched these weirdo’s junk on my dick.”

 

Kurosaki blinked, then burst out laughing, a careless sound compared to the manic laughter from earlier. A flush crawled up to the tips of his ears and he kicked him. “Don’t laugh at me.”

 

Wincing at that kick to his kidney, Kurosaki got his laughter under control. “I’m sorry, but you’re fucking weird.”

 

“Way to kill a boner, vampire.”

 

Kurosaki took his dick in hand and rolled his eyes. “Your boner seems fine to me.” Grimmjow had a hard time connecting the two gestures. His dick was into it, but he was still trying to convince his dick to cut it out. Sarcasm wasn’t sexy, at least not at his expense. Or he assumed it wouldn’t be.

 

Kurosaki loosely twisted his fingers around the head of his cock. Grimmjow hissed and Kurosaki watched him with rapt attention. His grip was dry and not even that good, but his cock twitched in appreciation anyway. “Hey.”

 

Kurosaki didn’t answer, he only hummed in the back of his throat. His hand slipped down the shaft, squeezing the base. Grimmjow grit his teeth, but didn’t move, his breath catching when Kurosaki dragged his tongue along the underside of the head, then mouthed the tip, the flat of his fangs a subtle reminder of the damage he could cause. That warmth spread everywhere his tongue touched and he asked, “What is that. It’s numb.”

 

Glancing up, Kurosaki answered, “Venom.” He took the head of his cock into his mouth, gently sucking, and Grimmjow groaned. The vampire pulled away just long enough to speak. “I hear it feels good, does it?”

 

“Feels weird,” Grimmjow said. “Especially on my dick.”

 

“Really?” Kurosaki looked at him, head tilted, then sank back down on his shaft. His lips spread around the girth of his cock, swallowing him down with a shocking amount of ease. He wasn't sure if that was a vampire thing or a Kurosaki thing, but the wet tightness of his mouth and throat was hot, that heat spiking through his veins and into his balls.

 

Grimmjow tightened his hands in the sheets, his heart pounding, and he stopped breathing all the way up until Kurosaki’s lips reached the base, his nose flush against the tangle of cyan pubes. “Hnnnnn––Kurosaki.”

 

Then the vampire looked up, and Grimmjow's fragile control shattered. Digging in his heels, he jerked his hips up into his throat. Kurosaki's eyes narrowed in discomfort, but he didn't pull back.  No, he _swallowed_ . His throat constricted around his tingling, sensitive cock, and Grimmjow groaned, warning, “I can't, _stop_.”

 

The look in Kurosaki's eyes darkened and he started to bob his head, heedless of his warning. Grimmjow swore, falling back in the bed to grasp Kurosaki's head in his hands. He fisted his hands in his hair and thrust into the heat of his throat, each sharp thrust of his hips punctuated with a moan.

 

Grimmjow didn't last at all, arching up off the bed into Kurosaki's mouth in aggressive abandon. He held Kurosaki's head down in his cock, cumming straight down his throat. Kurosaki fought his hold, and Grimmjow looked down.

 

The vampire's face was flushed and wet with tears, lips stretched and swollen around his cock, and there was nothing but lust in his eyes. Grimmjow groaned at the sight, holding his head tighter to his crotch for a split second, and let him go. Kurosaki pulled off, lips parted and chest heaving, thick saliva strung between his lips and the head of his cock. Fuck if it wasn’t the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

 

Kurosaki ducked back down, gently mouthing his cock, fangs brushing a softening erection. Grimmjow made a pained sound, his cock twitching and oversensitive from one of the hardest orgasms of his life. He had a mostly naked vampire between his legs, drowning him in pleasure, and for what reason? What the fuck did Kurosaki get out of this. He definitely looked like he fucking enjoyed it, but hell if Grimmjow knew why.

 

Still panting, Grimmjow fell back on the bed, his whole body tingling in pleasure, and sleep sounded real fuckin good. Kurosaki licked and sucked his shaft as he laid there, with enough care and attention that Grimmjow finally said something. “You like that vampire?”

 

An affirmative moan was his only response. Grimmjow stared up at the ceiling and connected a few dots. He shifted his leg, rubbing Kurosaki’s side. “Quit. If you’re that hungry you don’t have to suck my dick for it.”

 

Kurosaki pulled away, and Grimmjow looked down to catch something like shame on Kurosaki’s face. He muttered, “Stupid, vampire.”

 

Kurosaki protested. “I already took so much.”

 

“So fucking what, it’s the whole reason I’m here.”

 

Kurosaki straightened, sitting back on his ass and staring at him with a look so hurt, Grimmjow actually changed his mind. “Fuck...it’s the reason I stayed, but it isn’t the reason I’m here. Happy?”

 

Kurosaki scoffed, smearing a hand across his mouth, and scooted up higher on the bed. He flopped down beside him and said, “I don’t see you as food.”

 

“The fuck does that mean?”

 

Kurosaki groaned and dragged his hands over his face, noticing the cuffs now that he wasn't preoccupied. The vampire studied them, likely to see if there was a way to remove then without a  key. Not easily. Kurosaki said, “It means what I said. You taste good but…” He paused, hunting for words. “That isn't why I did that.”

 

 _Now_ he was shy.

 

Grimmjow sighed. “It’s early morning and I haven't slept in two days. Are ya gonna bite me or not?”

 

Kurosaki hissed, “ _Asshole_ , I'm trying to talk to you.”

 

“And I'm tired,” Grimmjow answered. From the extended silence, Grimmjow gathered Kurosaki was upset over that. “Look, you can talk about how sorry you are you tried to eat me tomorrow.” Kurosaki backhanded his arm, and Grimmjow sat up, wiggling out of his pants. “Now eat, I don't want to wake up with a vampire all over me.”

 

“Fine,” Kurosaki huffed.

 

Grimmjow dropped back down and gave Kurosaki's groin a pointed look. “You gonna…?”

 

“I'll suffer,” Kurosaki growled.

 

In a toss up between suffering filthy or inviting a coven of vampires into his business, Grimmjow thought he might choose to suffer too.

 

Kurosaki looked him up and down, concerned, and asked, “Where should I bite you?”

 

Grimmjow looked over at him and asked, suddenly curious. “Where do you wanna bite?” Kurosaki didn't answer, but his eyes lingered on his throat. He should have known. “Why?”  Kurosaki inhaled and Grimmjow cut him off before he could start. “A _real_ answer.”

 

Kurosaki flushed red, the muscles in his jaw clenching tight. Eyes flicking from his throat, back to his face. “Maybe I like it, so what?”

 

Grimmjow rolled over, propping himself up on an arm over him. “What do you like about it?”

 

The vampire looked horrified. “You’re gonna make me say it?”

 

“I think I fuckin’ earned it,” Grimmjow snarled.

 

Kurosaki frowned at him, considering that and leaned in. Grimmjow leaned back and said, “Answer me.”

 

“I am,” Kurosaki insisted.

 

Grimmjow studied him, then relaxed, letting Kurosaki do what he wanted. The vampire leaned in again, bracing his hand on Grimmjow’s shoulder to flatten him to his back. “I don’t hear a lot of explaining’,” Grimmjow complained.

 

“Fuck you,” Kurosaki muttered. “I’m thinking, I’ve never done this before.”

 

“Bullshit,” Grimmjow said.

 

“I told you, I don’t...didn’t bite.”

 

Grimmjow blinked and said, “So you were some sort of vampire virgin?”

 

“Do you have to word it like that?” Kurosaki growled.

 

“I popped your cherry.” Grimmjow smiled wide, amusement overriding exhaustion.

 

Kurosaki’s frown deepened. “I’ll just starve if you’re going to be a dick.”

 

“You already promised me an explanation,” Grimmjow reminded.

 

“I’m working on it!”

 

Kurosaki’s hands tightened into fists, the one by Grimmjow’s head balling up sheets. Grimmjow had some mercy and said, “Chill, Kurosaki. I’m an asshole, but do I really look like I can judge?”

 

“You already did,” Kurosaki said.

 

“Does it help to know I liked it too?”

 

The vampire looked like he was hunting for a lie, but he didn't find one. “Maybe,” he said. Grimmjow let him gather his nerve in silence, and after a long moment, Kurosaki reached for Grimmjow’s throat, his fingers brushing over the healing bite on his neck. He said, “Feels like I caught you. I liked having your life in my jaws, feeling your heart race. It didn’t do that when I fed from your wrist. It felt more personal.”

 

That was the answer Grimmjow had silently hoped for, that he might be different. “You just going to stare, or are you going to bite?”

 

Kurosaki leaned in to steal a brief kiss, surprising Grimmjow enough that he didn’t even react. He blinked up at the vampire when he muttered, “Asshole.” There was no vehemence in his voice, it almost sounded affectionate.

 

Before Grimmjow could think up a clever response, the vampire dropped his head to his neck, out of sight. Kurosaki swirled his tongue over the old bite, his skin tingling hot all over again. Grimmjow smoothed his hands  down Kurosaki’s back, and grabbed his ass. Kurosaki chuckled against his throat. “Seriously?”

 

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

 

Kurosaki scoffed and bit down without warning. It hurt more when he wasn’t aroused, but that was swiftly changing. The vampire drank more deeply than he did before, Grimmjow could feel the difference now that he was less distracted.

 

Grimmjow felt Kurosaki’s weight settle against him as the vampire folded his legs and sat on his lap. Grimmjow’s hands slid up to his back again, feeling his way across the bridge of his shoulders to the back of his head. He was starting to get dizzy, his heart working a bit harder, but Kurosaki seemed aware of it. The vampire rested a hand over his heart, and it was only a few second before he withdrew, licking and gently sucking the healing wound.

 

Hovering against his through, Kurosaki spoke softly. “Thank you.”

 

“Ya don’t have to thank me, stupid,” Grimmjow murmured. “I offered.”

 

“Seems polite.”

 

Kurosaki’s weight vanished, and Grimm opened his eyes, not recalling that he’d closed them. He rolled over with a slight shiver, tracking Kurosaki’s movement as he crawled to the end of the bed to retrieve a blanket. He pulled it over them both, much to Grimmjow’s displeasure. “I don’t cuddle.”

 

“You’re cold, I’m not,” was Kurosaki’s only response to that. He rolled Grimmjow back so he could drape his body half over him, resting his head on his chest. Grimmjow’s little shivers slowly calmed with their shared heat, especially when they were both a small furnace on a good day.

 

Grimmjow blinked sleepily at the ceiling, wishing he had more energy to argue. His reputation was ruined forever, if he’d even had one to begin with. “I’m not sure if that was the best, or most disappointing Halloween of my life.”

 

Kurosaki chuckled guiltily, sarcasm thick in his voice. “Happy Halloween.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Adversary for beta-reading for me! 
> 
> I couldn't come up with a title so I stole the whole holiday, hope you enjoyed ~


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